Maybe it was genetic or maybe it was a curse given to an ancestor and passed down generation after generation . But he , like his father, could see things “abstractly” as his Dad would say. Like seeing things upside down in a crystal ball, he could see thru emotions and lies. But he saw things he didn’t want to see. The game of life did not come easy to him. Until one Friday night, when he chose to see it as a gift, to see life as a gift. After that night the world seemed different, more colorful and  glorious, and he was at peace.






Ragtime Daily Prompts: friday

Daily Writing Challenge: top photo

Friday Fictioneers: bottom above, by Jeff Arnold

fandango’s fowc : abstract

A Brooding Sunflower

As summer turns to Autumn,

and Autumn turns to Winter,

snow covers the sun flowers in my garden,

glistening in the sunlight.

I watch from my kitchen window,

with brooding eyes,

the world turning white with snow.

Memories of summer days spent

lounging on my patio ,

swimming, and

grilling with friends

Come to the surface.

I lay in waiting for the snow to melt,

for the snow storm to pass,

to not feel trapped in my own home,

to be able to open my front door,

and explore the world once again.

Lay in waiting for the storms of my mind to pass,

to not feel trapped in my life,

to be able to open my front door,

and explore the world once again.



Prompted by :

Daily Word Prompt: brood

Daily Writing Challenge: WATA: photo above

Dverse Pub : open link night

The cabin

In a cabin on a sleepless mountain, I woke to birds singing. Then went on a hike to see the autumn leaves. Saw critters dance along the windy path, branches rustling as they go. Then went home to my cabin. I listened to wolves howling at a witch’s moon as I brewed my tea. Nestled into my comfortable sofa while the fireplace was ablaze with a roaring fire. Read a book filled with characters who had found moments of serendipity. Wished for more of my own. Then went to sleep as the crickets sang me a lullaby. I dreamt of countries not yet traveled all night long. Woke the following morning, grateful for the glorious day that I had. Grateful for the one that was just beginning to form amidst an orange globe surrounded by purple clouds.



Prompted by :

3tc: moon, howl, night

WATA: bottom photo

RDP: Serendipity

Thursday Photo Fiction: top photo, photo by  Sue Vincent

Heavy Shadows

hidden truths,

hidden secrets,

a burden on my soul.

heavy shadows,

coals in a Christmas stocking

buried in the corners

of my subconscious.

heavy shadows,

hidden truths,

hidden secrets,

left unopened,

left buried,

left unspoken.

Video Credit: ( from you tube) A video with the song and lyrics to

Hiding my Heart by Adele from her album, 21.


Prompted by:

Song Lyric Sunday: post a song with lyrics about the theme “hidden”

FOWC: prompt



PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

    There was a brick wall she built around her heart. It was thick and tall. Sometimes it felt like her heart was in a castle with a moat around it. She built it after years of anxiety and depression had enveloped her. Only a few trusted friends were allowed in.

The one thing no one knew was that she hoped and prayed that someone special would have the courage to climb over the wall. For years, no one in the herd of  men outside came close enough. Until one day, one man did, and it changed them both for the better.


Prompted by:

Friday Fictioneers: photo above

Fandango FOWC : fence

RDP: herd

Friday Fictioneers: The Gift

Charles woke up at dawn, thinking “I have to do something .Do better. Be… something.”

He packed up his truck and got his kids. Then they went about making a “she shed” for his wife. It included a shelf of sea shells from their last holiday. When she got home from delivering their baby she was happy and surprised to see it.

Later that year, he was the one that was surprised when she told him the wonderful news. They were having their seventh child. The next day he gave his wife the best present of all, a vasectomy.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook


Prompted by:

Friday Fictioneers: photo prompt

Ragtime Daily prompts: truck